Valkyrie
by Diabolical Pink Bunny
Summary: The Doctor steps out of the sick-bay for the first time in a week, only to discover that something terrible has gone wrong: where was Harry? And Chakotay? and why didn't Janeway know them?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Star Trek: Voyager or any of the characters therein; I just really really _really_ wish I had been on board...

_Author's notes:_ This is the third story in my series. The first story is 'The Legend' and the second 'Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta.' If this is the first time you read my stories, please start there.

**Chapter 1**

"_Say, is this a ship of the Valkyries, or have you human women finally done away with your men altogether?"_

Something was wrong, definitely wrong. The Doctor was just not exactly sure what it was yet. For more than a week now he had been cooped up in the sick bay, trying to cure Reg Barclay.

Two weeks ago the ships had traded with the Vortighans; a small planet with a number of edible plants they were hoping to grow in the hydroponics-bay. When _Voyager_ had been recomissioned two years back, many of the crew had requested that the cargo bay turned back into a hydroponics-bay once more. Of course it had been Reg that had finally gotten the approval from Starfleet Command. Counsellor Troy – who has had the difficult task of helping Reg for about a decade now – had thought it would be a good idea if Reg took a shift or two in the hydroponics-bay every day.

And that's where things had gone wrong. Mixed in between the samples from Vortighan planet, had been a single insect that the filters had not picked up. They should have, but somehow the bug had gotten through, only to sting Reg Barclay four days later.

The man had come down with severe symptoms and it was on a cure for the sting that the Doctor had been working. And the Vortighans had been of little help. Though they knew about the insect, they had no cure for the infection. People stung by this bug always died, they had informed the crew.

That had been ten days ago, and Reg was now safely recovering from his ordeal. Last week the Doctor had to cancel on his weekly game of Sin-tah with Harry Kim, but now he had been waiting on Harry for more than an hour on the holo-deck.

"The Doctor to Harry Kim," he tried on his com badge once more. But again he was met with silence. He frowned. It was not like Harry to be late and, even more so, the Lieutenant was not one to ignore a hail on the com. So where was he?

"The Doctor to Captain Chakotay, please respond," he hailed. The same silence as before was his only answer. Now he was worried. He was sure there was no crisis on board that would require the Captain's attention, so why wasn't he answering?

"Okay, Doctor to Tuvok," he tried once more. Still no answer. What was going on?

Perhaps communications were down. That would explain why nobody was answering him and why Harry was late. So instead of panicking – something learned through years of experience, he proudly thought – he transferred himself back to sick-bay. Sutor was not yet in, but did not seem to be something new these days. Now that the doctor thought about it, it had been quite a few days since he had seen the Betazoid.

Suddenly he was worried. He quickly checked on Reg. The paranoid human would probably be able to return to duty by the end of the day. Then he got his mobile emitter from the carved-wooden box he kept it in. As a hologram there was very little he needed in life: a good computer and a holo-deck served most of his needs. But the emitter was the key to freedom and he zealously guarded it. This box was his one concession to vanity.

He hung the badge on his arm and activated it. Within moments his program was transferred from _Voyager_ to the emitter.

He picked up Sutor's med-kit and strolled out the door. The emitter meant freedom, but it also meant that he had to walk everywhere he had to go. Program-transfer was so much faster.

On his way to the bridge he noticed that the corridors were oddly empty. Not that _Voyager_ was ever a ship with hundreds of people running about, but usually he encountered a number of people just passing by on their way.

He picked up his pace. Could it be that he was the only person on board _Voyager_?

"Hello?" he called, hoping to hear a voice answering. But still the only sound was that of his own voice. "Anyone here?"

Finally he reached the turbo-lift, but without ever encountering another person. He stepped in and gave the command that would take him to the bridge. Perhaps there he would find some answers. Besides, if there was a problem, the best place for him to be was the bridge. He was a hologram who had saved the day this way more than once.

It seemed like an eternity, but in the end it took only a few seconds to get to the bridge. The doors silently slid open and he stepped onto the bridge.

"Doctor?" Janeway asked as she saw him standing in the doorway. "Can we help you?"

"Eh, no," he answered. "But I thought the ship was..." he looked around. At Harry's station stood Ensign Ungih. Lieutenant O'Haran was at the con and at tactical stood Crewman Lara. He frowned. These were all good people, but that was not the part that was strange. The strange part was that they were all women.

"Where's Chakotay? And Tuvok and Tom?" he asked. He looked at Janeway, but she looked at him with a slight, worried smile.

"Who?" she asked. She stepped closer, a look of concern on her face. "Doctor, are you all right?"

"I don't know," he replied. And it was true: he was not really sure anymore.

"How's Reg doing?" she continued.

"He should be back on duty later today," the Doctor said. "You know," he suddenly decided, "I have to go check on him, anyway. I had thought there might be something wrong with the com-system," he added.

"I'll have somebody look into it," the Admiral said. "But we are so under-staffed it might take a while."

"Under-staffed?" Strange, the crew was up to standard, as well as having a number of guests who had been stranded as well.

"Yes, and I have to get to work," she said. Janeway turned and went to sit on the captain's seat.

Yes, something was definitely wrong here.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

If it wasn't for the fact that he had made an oath (okay, it had been made for him during his programming, but he would gladly make it if it was required) not to harm a person, he just might have done some serious damage to Reg Barclay. Who had been the idiot who had thought it a good idea to declare the man space-worthy?

It had not taken Reg too long to realise he was the only man (except for the Doctor) on the ship. The Doctor reflected that this discovery would have had Tom Paris jumping for joy. But not Reg Barclay. For the past day – since his recovery and subsequent discovery – he had been cowering in the sickbay, annoying the Doctor.

The Doctor didn't have time for this. The ship had lost about half its crew with all the men gone and the Doctor was one of two who knew about it. Reg was the other one, but he was no help.

For the past few hours the Doctor had been going through the logs, trying to discover where everything had gone wrong. So far he had found little, but then again: he was a doctor, not a detective.

What he had found was not so much evidence as anomalies. The first anomaly was that seven days ago there was a gap in the logs. For three-point-two hours there had been no computer entries made throughout the ship. It was almost as if everyone had gone to sleep for that time. The second thing was that after that gap there were no further entries made by male members of the crew. Whatever had happened here had happened in that time.

"But why would they leave the ship?" he wondered out loud. Reg – who had been hovering – bent over to look at the screen.

"You should take this to the Captain and let him deal with it," the man said in a small voice.

The Doctor sighed. "I told you, the Captain is one of the men that has disappeared. You," and he looked at Reg while raising his eyebrows, "are the only man left on board." He returned to his workstation. "Unfortunately for me."

Now Reg was in a flat spin. "If the Captain is gone, then who is in charge of the ship!" he shrieked.

The Doctor sighed. "Admiral Janeway. Now please, calm down."

Reg wasn't placated. "But she isn't Captain!" he stressed.

The Doctor shrugged. "She has done this before, you know. It's not as if being the Captain of Voyager is something new to her." Really, why did it have to be Reg Barclay? Perhaps he could knock him out with a sedative, the Doctor wondered for just an instant.

Then he sighed. No, he had more important things to do. He had an idea, but it would take some time to put it together.

"Reg, perhaps we can save this, but I'm going to need your help," he told the nervous man.

#####

In the end the difficult part had not been setting the scene for the meeting, but getting the Admiral, B'Elanna and Libby to come to holo-deck 1. But finally the three women were seated at what was a precise replica of the briefing room just off the bridge. He could see the three women were a bit confused, but that was only to be expected.

"You are probably wondering why I have brought you here," he started his speech. "Seeing as a dedicated Doctor like myself hardly need any theatrics to prove a point." He saw B'Elanna roll her eyes, but he ignored her. "The thing is..."

"Just get on with it, Doctor," Janeway interrupted. He frowned a little bit. There it was again: that subtle hint of aggression he had noticed before in her. Janeway had always had the penchant for being a bit brusque, but now – as well as when he had been on the bridge earlier – she had seemed almost rude. And even he could feel the air of suppressed violence surrounding her.

So he nodded, having learned long ago not to annoy her if he wanted to keep her attention. She had muted him once – and that had not even been a bad day for her!

"Very well," he amended his speech. He paced a little. "I have gone back over the logs and found a couple of anomalies. The first is a gap in the logs. On stardate 57840.1 there had been no entries in the log for more than three hours. And after that time the crew had been depleted by half." He took a deep breath. "After that time only the female members of the crew remained." He thought about that for an instant. "As well as Mister Barclay," he amended.

"Mister Barclay?" Janeway asked.

"Yes. He was in sick-bay in stasis at the time."

"Please, Doctor, we do not have time for any more theatrics. The ship is understaffed and all of us have too much to do to sit around here, listening to your speech." By the end of the sentence Janeway seemed angry. There was definitely something wrong with her; and it was more than just stress.

He tapped his com-badge. "Reg, you can come in now," he said. Nothing happened. He sighed, rolled his eyes and tapped his badge again. "Reg!" he snapped.

It took a moment, but then the door opened and a careful Reg Barclay entered. He came to stand next to the Doctor.

"Hello, Admiral," he shyly said.

Janeway frowned. "Who is this?" she demanded, gesturing at Reg.

The man cringed; a look of utter misery on his face. "Admiral, I am Reg Barclay," he told her. "I am your assistant."

Janeway looked at him, still frowning. "I have never seen this man before," she informed the Doctor. He nodded.

"Actually, you have. As well as this man," he said. As he and Reg had programmed the holo-deck, the holographic doppelganger of Chakotay appeared the moment the Doctor snapped his fingers. A bit dramatic, he knew, but he needed to capture their attention.

The holographic Chakotay greeted Janeway and went to sit on the seat to her right – where the real Chakotay had sat for seven years. The Doctor had decided he needed to jolt the human's memories, so he had programmed this scene to have elements of both the past and the present.

"This is Chakotay," the Doctor explained. "A Maquis rebel you chased to the Delta quadrant. There he became your first in command and recently you – um – became lovers," he stumbled over the last part.

"I have never seen this man, either," Janeway said.

"I know," the Doctor replied. He turned to B'Elanna and snapped his fingers. Tom Paris appeared, holding a bunch of flowers. The hologram gave them to B'Elanna and sat down next to her, smiling. "This is your husband, Tom Paris," the Doctor told B'Elanna.

The woman frowned. "I sincerely doubt that," she snapped. "I think I would have remembered marrying someone," she continued in a sneer.

"Nevertheless," the Doctor told her, "this is your husband; and Miral's father."

The half-Klingon sneered at the Doctor. "Leave Miral out of this!"

So, the Doctor reflected, it wasn't just Janeway that was overly-sensitive and aggressive.

Finally he turned to the last person he had invited here: Libby Kim. He snapped his fingers and Harry appeared. He too had a bunch of flowers, which he gave to Libby.

"This is your husband," the Doctor told Libby.

Before he could say more, Janeway suddenly exploded in rage.

"Enough!" she commanded. "I will hear no more of this nonsense. Doctor, I expect you to report to your station immediately!" She turned to B'Elanna and Libby. "You as well," she told them. She looked slightly up. "Computer," she demanded, "delete characters!"

Chakotay, Tom and Harry disappeared. She looked at the Doctor. "End program!" she said. Instantly the four women, Reg and the Doctor stood in the empty holo-deck.

This had not gone as well as he had hoped, the doctor reflected.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It was late. Janeway sighed as the door to her quarters slid closed behind her. It had been a long day. Actually, it had been a long week. The ship was understaffed to the point where everyone needed to take double shifts.

On top of that: Ellrose had been even more difficult than before. If they weren't careful, they might lose the _Daedalus_. Ellrose had been warning them that she was going to take her ship and make her own way home.

Janeway sank into the long seat beneath the porthole. And then there was the thing with the Doctor and his claims of a lost crew.

That same inexplicable anger rose in her at the thought of the lost crew. That was the final part of what was bothering her: every time someone even mentioned the lost crew she became angry. And she had been furious at Reg Barclay, yet the man seemed so unthreatening.

She sighed once more and got up. Her next shift would be soon enough and she desperately needed some sleep.

Tiredly she made her way to the bedroom section of her quarters. The bed stood beneath the porthole, so she had a headboard of stars. But now her eyes were drawn to the bulkhead partitioning the bedroom and the bathroom. Hung on it was a contraption of leather and feathers. She frowned. It was a beautiful thing – a dreamcatcher, if she remembered correctly – but not something she would have chosen for her quarters.

She looked around for what seemed the first time. The room was as ordinary as any ever found on a Starfleet ship. And like any Starfleet quarters, it had been personalised. But the decor was not her own. Some of it she recognized as things she herself had put up, but others were unfamiliar – like the dreamcatcher.

Slowly she moved around the quarters, looking at everything – sometimes touching something that was definitely unfamiliar, but somehow _felt_ as if it had meant much to her. One such thing was a tightly folded leather bundle. She had no memory of it: either of procuring it or even opening it. Yet should she open it now, she _knew_ what she would find: the wing of a blackbird, a stone from the river and an _akoona_.

She sighed. This was truly peculiar. She put the bundle back on the carved little table and headed for bed. She was too tired to think clearly. Oh, but how she could have used a little Vulcan wisdom right now!

######

B'Elanna held Miral's hand and together they made their way to their quarters. The girl was just over two years old, but she already showed a remarkable interest in anything that could fly. Actually it did not surprise B'Elanna: Miral's dad could fly just about anything.

By now they had reached their quarters. A single command opened the door for them.

The next hour or so was part of the usual routine. But no matter how much B'Elanna tried, she could not shake the feeling that something was missing. The routine was familiar, but incomplete. A number of times it even felt that should she just turn around quickly enough, she'd find that which was missing.

Finally the girl was asleep. It had taken longer than usual, and somehow B'Elanna suspected Miral knew what was missing. Unfortunately the child was sullen and moody tonight and B'Elanna could not get anything out of her.

B'Elanna ordered a glass of wine from the replicator and gratefully sank down on the bed. It was the bed she had slept in for years, but suddenly it felt too big; too empty.

Suddenly furious, she flung the glass across the room to shatter against the opposite bulkhead. All of this was the Doctor's fault! He had upset them all with his talk of a forgotten crew! That man he had paraded about cannot possibly be her husband and Miral's father! Miral's was...

She looked at the shattered glass strewn all over the carpet and suddenly she was deathly afraid. No matter how hard she tried, she could not remember who the father was. And yet, it could not be that man, could it? Every time she thought of him she became angry; furious. Above all else, that frightened her. She had thought she had come so far in life and that she had finally gotten her temper under control. But now it seems that control has slipped: as the twinkling glass testified.

She got up to look for something to sweep the glass up with, but instead found herself in front of the small closet in the room. Taking a deep breath, she opened the closet. To the left were her clothes – the few items she had thought to bring along on the trip. On the right-hand side of the space were clothes that were definitely not hers. They were male clothes, including a number of garish Hawaiian-style shirts.

Then she had to wonder how she knew they were Hawaiian-style, as she had not even grown up on Earth and had no reference for the fashion.

#####

Libby was uncomfortable. She might only be in her first trimester, but she was sure she could feel the baby pressing on her insides! And she was so tired of morning sickness! The Doctor had told her there wasn't much he could do about that, so she was on her own.

She stroked over her still-flat belly. She wondered why the Doctor would have shown her the hologram of that stranger. It had only infuriated her, and she was sure the Doctor would not put her baby at risk that way. He might have a terrible bedside manner, but he was super-sensitive about the health of his patients.

Tomorrow was her next check-up, and if she showed up tired, the Doctor was going to scold her again. Yet she could not sleep. She had been lying in bed for more than an hour and still had not even been able to calm down at all.

She turned on her right. Now the biggest part of the bed was in front of her, as she slept on the left-hand side of it. The bed was freshly made up and her moving around had not disturbed the covers on the other side at all. The bed felt so empty.

Her gaze travelled over the flat sheets to the bed-side table on the other side of it. A framed picture stood to the back of the table. She frowned. Why would she put a picture on that side of the bed?

She scooted over – finally having an excuse to rumple the covers – and picked up the solid frame. In it was a photo of her and a young, Asian descent man. He was dressed in golden Starfleet-style dress uniform and he was smiling at the camera. It was the same man as the one the Doctor had shown her on the holo-deck!

Then her heart jumped as she realised in the picture she was wearing her wedding dress! She would know that dress anywhere, as it was the dress she had dreamed of since she was a child!

Finally she had to admit: something was wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Libby had to admit: having a holographic doctor on board really had its uses. Even in the dead of night he could be summoned without ever being sleepy and clumsy. Yes, he would complain about it as loud and as often as he could. But he would never turn away someone with a problem.

So, seeing as she was still wide awake hours after she had gone to bed, she had gone to the sick-bay and asked him for something that would calm her without harming the baby. But that was where things had gone wrong for her. It seemed the Doctor was still miffed at her over her reaction at their previous encounter. So he had told her to grow up and had deactivated himself. Very strange, as she was sure he could help her.

She had been on her way back to her quarters when she had realised she could not face that cold, empty room yet. Instead she had taken the now-familiar path to the mess-hall.

As she entered the mess-hall, she saw B'Elanna Torres sitting at a table beneath a porthole; gazing at the stars flashing by. She was holding a cup of what Libby guessed were coffee: the engineer could drink buckets of the stuff.

Conscious of the small person growing inside her, Libby went to the kitchen and got her a cup of herbal tea. As she was pouring the fragrant brew, she recalled a story she had once heard: about Neelix experimenting with new brews as a coffee replacement and ending up with something one had to eat with a spoon. Well, if one could muster the courage to do so, that was.

It was in this train of thought that she walked over to the lone stargazer and slid into the seat across from her. B'Elanna smiled at her; a sad kind of smile.

"B'Elanna, why am I on _Voyager_?" Libby asked the other woman. "For that matter, why are we friends? I mean; where could we ever have met?"

B'Elanna frowned – something her half-Klingon face did well. Yet she did not answer Libby's question.

"I know what you mean," she cryptically told her friend. "It almost seems as if part of me is missing. And because it is missing, there seems to be a big hole in everything I thought I knew."

Libby nodded. Perhaps _that_ should have been her question: what was wrong with them? What was this feeling that she was missing a big piece of the puzzle?

"I don't know who the father of my baby is," she admitted, aware what shape the missing piece was, but not sure what the picture on it looked like.

Before B'Elanna could answer, another voice did:

"We don't have any Vulcans on board," Admiral Janeway said, on her way over with a cup that would definitely be coffee. Only Janeway could beat B'Elanna when it came to their shared passion.

"Admiral?" B'Elanna asked.

Janeway sat down next to B'Elanna, sipping her coffee. Then she smiled a bit wryly. "I was furious at the Doctor when I arrived in my quarters. But the moment I realised he might be correct, the first thing I thought was that I could really use some Vulcan logic. But I can't remember ever knowing a Vulcan."

Libby nodded, aware Torres was agreeing as well. "There is a picture in my quarters, of me wearing a wedding dress." She grinned, but it was difficult through the new anger rising in her. "And I _am_ pregnant, you know. I didn't do that by myself!"

B'Elanna must have noticed how difficult it was for her to smile, for she asked: "Do you also feel angry whenever you try to think of what the Doctor had said?"

"Definitely!" Libby agreed. "I get so angry I want to break something."

"So all three of us are suffering from whatever it is that has happened to us," B'Elanna mused, referring to Janeway's own admittance of irrational anger. "Okay, so what is it?"

Janeway seemed to consider it for a moment, and then she tapped her com-badge. "Janeway to the Doctor," she said.

The Doctor was a hologram and thus did not sleep. Yet he had no trouble letting them know they were interfering with whatever it was he had been doing.

_Yes, Admiral_, he snapped.

"Would you please join us in the mess-hall," she requested.

"You have an idea what's going on here?" Libby asked. She still felt a bit confused at how she was to treat the Admiral. Although no stranger to dignitaries, it was still difficult to understand the unique bond between the _Voyager_ crew and their former captain. Though captain, she and the crew had formed a bond that was strange to any outsiders. And Libby wasn't a member of the crew, after all.

"Not really," Janeway replied. "But the Doctor seems to know something about it."

Moments later the doors to the mess-hall slid open and the bald hologram stepped in. Libby had to admit it was always curious why the Doctor did not alter his program to include more hair. Or better features, she grinned to herself.

"So, are you finally ready to discuss the problem," the strange man asked. If nothing else, his attitude towards Janeway was the most peculiar of them all to Libby. And everyone seemed to take it in stride!

"It's not something we're proud of," B'Elanna told the hologram, "but it seems as though you were right."

"Ah, when the students are ready, the master will appear," he told them, lifting his chin slightly and looking very smug. His point made, he slid into the seat next to Libby and started to explain about the men in their lives, gaps in the logs and the disappearance of a crew. Soon fascination won out over the anger and fury building inside Libby.

Then he looked at her and said: "Mister Kim spoke about you almost every day while we were lost in the Delta quadrant. Well, the first time. He never stopped loving you." And as he looked at her with his slightly off-centre eyes, it was as if a dam burst inside her mind. The anger was swept away in a tide of memory

She placed an instinctive possessive hand over her not-yet-swollen belly. _She remembered_!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The window was in the shape of a tree – perhaps something like the weeping willow on earth. But unlike the windows on earth, this window was not a pane of glass. Instead each facet of the tree was shaped into the wall itself. The effect was thus a collection of small, shaped windows in the wall itself. It was unique. It was astoundingly beautiful.

And it was absolutely useless as a way of escape. Every facet was no more than a hand-sized coin in the outside wall; letting enough light in through the green tinged windows, but allowing no way out.

In frustration Tom Paris beat his left palm into the wall. In that moment of impact he felt a bond with his wife and with the frustration she constantly battled.

"Beating at the wall will not help," a calm voice said behind him. Tom turned around to face his co-captive: Chakotay. Once the two of them had been on opposite sides of a divide caused by mistrust and bruised feelings. In time they had settled their differences, yet all progress was nearly lost in that second. Being cooped up with the calm Captain of _Voyager_ was no easy thing for Tom.

"Somewhere out there is my wife and daughter," Tom nearly snarled. It seemed as if some of his wife's bad habits were rubbing off on him. "How can you sit there: so calm and unworried?"

The older man surged to his feet; a testament to the frustration he too must be feeling. "If you think I do not worry, you are mistaken," he told Tom. "But I cannot beat at the walls in frustration."

"Aarg!" Tom growled; throwing his hands in the air. "How can you be so _calm_!"

Chakotay sat down, sighing. "I am not calm. Everything I care about is somewhere out there. Every_one_ I've ever cared about has forgotten about my existence. I am just grateful they have not killed the women."

Tom sighed then, as well. He sank down on the bench next to Chakotay and rested his head against the wall. He closed his eyes and the image of his wife and daughter flashed through his mind. "Yes, at least they are still alive somewhere out there."

What he did not say was that he feared for them. It was not as if Tom Paris was a chauvinist: he was completely aware of the fact that the women of _Voyager_ could take care of themselves. His wife, especially, had the ability to survive. But if it was true that all the men had been taken and brought to this planet, then both _Voyager_ and the _Daedalus_ were short on crew. No crew – weather they be male or female, Klingon, Vulcan or human could function properly if they are overly-tired. Tom knew the demands placed on the crew here in the Delta quadrant and he knew it was going to be an even greater challenge for the Starfleet ships to survive now.

"I miss B'Elanna," Tom finally admitted. "But I am glad she is not the one incarcerated," he added. He opened his eyes and looked at the opulent quarters the Yan-Tai had provided them. "Even if it is a gilded cage."

Chakotay smiled and Tom saw the longing on his Captain's face. It wasn't that anyone on _Voyager_ begrudged Chakotay and Janeway their relationship – in fact everybody was relieved that they had finally sorted it out and gotten together – it was just sometimes still strange to think of them as _together_. For ten years everyone had known they shared a special bond, but it had never been something anybody dared to talk about. "Your wife has never been good at sitting still," Tom's commanding officer remarked. The lieutenant often forgot how close Chakotay and B'Elanna were, as well.

But it was Tom who had won the heart of the feisty female. As the sun was setting behind the fancy window, he smiled. He still could not believe his luck. He was all too aware he did not deserve such a lovely and talented woman.

"I'm afraid Miral is going to be as feisty as her mother," the smitten man said. He suddenly had the immense urge to talk about his family. And Chakotay – bless the man – seemed to realise that.

"How is your father taking the fact that your wife is an ex-fugitive?" he asked Tom.

The younger man winced. Things between him and his father had been difficult for as long as Tom could imagine. And explaining B'Elanna and Miral to Admiral Paris had been one of the most difficult things Tom had ever done. Yet Tom winced not because there had been a scene, but because he felt guilty about ever having doubted his father.

"My father loves B'Elanna. In fact, I think the two of them are closer than he and I have ever been. She sees him as her own, lost father, I think," he told his reluctant friend. Now he grinned at a memory. "You are aware the Klingons are extremely loyal?"

Chakotay grinned as well, well aware how loyal B'Elanna could be. "Has she taken your father's side in an argument?"

"No, worse. The first time my father had a relapse and talked down to me, she hit him!"

Chakotay's grin widened. "At least she is on your side. You don't want B'Elanna as your enemy."

Now Tom frowned a bit. "Yes. But after that incident my father has taken _her_ side in just about everything!" Then Tom sobered. "I just wish I could have said goodbye, you know."

Chakotay's smile vanished as well. The Captain must have the same longing as he did, after all. "Yes. Me too."

Together the two men sat in their fancy prison, thinking about the life they had no way of getting back to.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The opportunity presented itself with the bringing of the evening meal. They really had not planned it, yet as Starfleet officers they were compelled to act.

It happened just after their conversation on whether _Voyager_ would survive with only half of her crew. Tom and Chakotay were sitting on the strange little bench, both lost in thought, when the woman with the fancy tray brought their meal. The meal usually consisted out of copious amounts of meat and alcohol – apparently the women had done their research on the human race. Chakotay often wondered what they were serving Tuvok. Then again, it was fortunate there had been no Klingon men on the crew: where would they find fresh _targ_?

The tray was extremely decorative, as well as the dishes upon which dinner was served. Unfortunately the woman who brought the tray wasn't as decorative. In fact, the women all seemed to exist in extreme contrast to their lovely and delicate world. The decorations brought the Earth-Victorian era to mind: women with lace and long dresses and delicate manners do accompany it. One could envision kings and queens in this setting, eating the food presented on the delicate plates. But the women of this world were big and rough. They wore skimpy clothes, yet their figures begged covering up. Those who were not grossly overweight were so muscular they were hardly recognizable as female.

Years in space had taught Chakotay to see the beauty in almost every race: even Talaxians possessed an undeniable beauty. But whatever beauty this race might have had, had been scrubbed out by generations of neglect and indulgence.

The woman who usually brought the delicate tray clasped in her rough grip was one of the warrior types. Her legs – definitely her best feature – were more muscular than either man's. She stood taller that both, as well. On their first day here – when there had still been a chance to get to _Voyager_ – they had tried to escape. Chakotay was still bruised in places.

Today she looked mad – something that did not bode well for them, as she was the type to take her moods out on the prisoners. As the door slid open Chakotay leaned forward, eyeing the Amazon. Tom simply opened one eye, saw who it was and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes again.

"Why do you still keep us here?" Chakotay asked the woman. By now the Yan-Tai should have realise neither Chakotay nor Tom were willing to give them what they wanted. The mere thought made Chakotay shudder in revulsion. Not even when he had been single would that have been an option.

The woman ignored him. But he had to keep trying – even if it was just to try and understand. By now _Voyager_ and the _Daedalus_ would be long gone, yet it was not in him to simply lie down and give up. "We would be willing to let you take blood samples. Perhaps with DNA..."

"No!" the woman snapped, setting the tray on the delicate little table. "We told you..."

"It has to be a willing transference of both the physical and the spiritual," he finished the phrase for her. He had heard it often enough. It did not bode well, and considering his previous encounter with a female-run planet, Harry's wide-eyed fear was to be expected. Fortunately the women had not yet forced the issue, though.

Just as she set the tray down, someone called to her from outside. The Amazon answered, but in the process turned her back on her prisoners. Lightning quick Tom leapt up from the bench and Vulcan neck-pinched her. Immediately the woman slid to the floor in a dead faint.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Chakotay asked. He could not believe that Tuvok and Tom had spent enough time together to exchange battle-tactics.

"Oh. The Doctor showed me how it is done." The younger man looked down as the passed-out woman. "I didn't really believe it would work, though."

"The Doctor?" Chakotay echoed as they sneaked out of the room.

"Yeah," Tom said, frowning slightly. Then he must have realised Chakotay really wanted an answer. He looked back and grinned at his captain. "Medicine can be a very dangerous occupation."

"I noticed," Chakotay replied. If he ever got back to _Voyager_ he was going to have a little discussion with the Doctor. If Tom could master the basics of neck-pinching, then the rest of the crew should be able to do so as well. Then he grinned to himself: it would really rile Tuvok if the rest of the crew could use the neck-pinch!

Stealthily they made their way down the corridor. The same, delicate decor graced them.

"So, what now?" Tom asked.

"You're the genius that broke us out of there," Chakotay answered. They heard footsteps approaching and ducked in behind a large flowering shrub.

As they crouched there, waiting for the woman to pass, Tom grinned at Chakotay. "That only means I've done my part. Now it's your turn."

Somehow this did not surprise Chakotay. Tom could be very impulsive – and impressively decisive – but he had no trouble with shifting the problem. But then again, the way out was something Tom did not know about, after all.

"When we came in," Chakotay now told the cocky pilot, "we noticed a graveyard of old spaceships. We didn't give it much thought as this was not a planet at war with anyone. Perhaps those ships belonged to all-male crews and were abandoned."

"I bet they didn't abandon them willingly," Tom growled. The coast was clear once more, and they set out once more in a direction that might lead to an exit. Weeks ago they had been beamed down from their ships directly to an assembly point. Yet the controls were not near there as the Yan-Tai feared escape – and rightfully so, the Captain mused.

Life in space was at all times a life of risk. There were so many things that could go wrong. Yet Chakotay had to admit he had never considered ending his days as the willing sex-slave of an Amazonian alien race. No; no matter the consequences, they had to leave this place. Anything else just wasn't an option.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

He tried, really, he did. But sometimes the organics (like that faulty hologram had once referred to the various carbon-based humanoids throughout the galaxy) could drive him to program failure.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. He _told_ them there were some discrepancies in the system, but they were not satisfied until they had seen it for themselves. He _knew_ it wasn't because they didn't trust him: it was more along the lines of not being able to believe the tale _at all_. But he had told them!

The Doctor, Janeway, Torres and Libby Kim were down in the engine room, going through the logs. Personally, the Doctor wasn't that fond of the engine room. It was always bustling with people running about and doing things that he just knew was going to get them hurt sooner or later. One was not supposed to crawl into the nacelles the way these people often did!

"There," Torres said and froze the display. On the screen the Doctor could clearly see the gap in the communications log he had identified earlier. Janeway and Libby leaned over Torres' shoulder, pushing the Doctor to the back. Now unable to see on the screen, he threw his arms in the air, sighed to the heavens and decided to go look for something to do. Except of course this was the engine room: the one room in all the ship where he had no business being.

Idly he wandered about for another few minutes, listening to the women's conversation in snatches. For now they were still on the same path he had been earlier. He would head back to them the moment they learned something new.

'Something new' turned out to be indications that the logs had been altered during those three hours of silence. Torres was explaining it to the others when the Doctor joined them.

"As far as I can see, someone went over the logs of those hours and meticulously deleted everything they could find. Everything, that is, except," and the woman called up a graph on the screen, "the transporter logs. Whoever deleted these logs, somehow missed the transporter logs."

"So the transporters were used during that time?" Janeway asked. She had been looking at another display while Torres had started her explanation. Now she leaned over the other woman's shoulder. The Doctor rolled his eyes once more and took a step back. He might as well; they were probably just going to shove him out anyway. Not that they considered him any less human than they; he had seen them do the same thing to Neelix as well. It was just that they were aware of the fact that it wasn't his field of expertise – not that anyone could compare to him in _his_ field of expertise – so they ignored him.

"Oh, very much so," Torres answered the Admiral. "It seems as if just about everyone on the ship had been beamed off at one stage. Look here, at sixteen twenty-two the number of people on _Voyager_ was only one."

"That would have been Reg Barclay," the Doctor intervened. "He never left my sight that day. They probably left him because the disease he had was thought to be fatal."

Janeway frowned. "So these abductors left him because they assumed he was dying?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Probably. But don't take my word for it. I'm a doctor, not a psychologist, after all."

Janeway glared at him for a moment, but then returned her attention to the screen. "How many were beamed out?" she asked.

Torres adjusted the settings and the screen filled with dates and numbers. She explained the data:

"How many beamed out is just part of the answer, Admiral. See, according to the manifest we ought to have one hundred and fifty-two crew members, as well as eleven guests." Torres nodded at Libby. "Libby would be one of them, Miral another."

"I suppose I am one of the 'two' in 'one hundred and fifty-two,'" Janeway grimaced. Torres did not even notice.

"Yes, with Reg Barclay," she innocently confirmed Janeway. "But one hundred and ninety-three beamed off the ship, leaving two behind."

Libby – perhaps not as well versed in starship technology as the rest – was the first to draw the obvious conclusion. "That means there were thirty intruders?"

Suddenly the Doctor felt confuse. "Wait, earlier you said the intruders left only one person behind."

Libby grinned at him. "B'Elanna had said the number of _people_ left behind had been one. But two _crewmembers_ had stayed behind."

For a moment the Doctor frowned. Then comprehension dawned. "Oh, me. So now I am not a person, am I?"

"Not now," Janeway said, holding up a hand. As he was standing right behind her, she nearly smacked him on the chin with the hand – she really was very short.

"How many returned after the abduction," Janeway asked.

"Believe it or not," Torres continued, "we are a very balanced crew where gender is concerned. If the crew of one-five-two includes the Doctor as male, then we split nearly down the middle with seventy-seven men and seventy-five women. And there were seven female guests and four male. So a grand total of eighty-two were beamed back."

"Bringing the numbers to eighty-four," Janeway mused. "Leaving us under-staffed and nearly all-female. A ship of the Valkyries."

#####

There were eight of them around the table: Janeway, Torres, Libby and the Doctor, along with Captain Ellrose, Admiral Crewaw and two other women from the _Daedalus_. So far the _Voyager_ crew had been met with the same resistance and anger they themselves had displayed when the Doctor had tried to explain the absence of crew to them earlier. The crew of the _Daedalus_ were also less affected by the disappearance than _Voyager_ as their crew had been mostly female. The doctor wondered how that had happened: as a rule Starfleet tried to balance the genders. A balance caused less problems later on.

"I will not sit here and listen to these preposterous claims!" Ellrose exploded. Her face was red with anger; something which worried the Doctor.

"Please calm down," he told the woman. "Somehow this anger was programmed into you while you were off the ship. But it will not help your health if you cannot control it."

Ellrose glared at him, but she was a Starfleet officer, after all. She might not be much of one, but she immediately knew she had to do as he said to save what dignity she had left.

"Fine," she said, taking a deep breath. "So where did we lose this 'male crew' of yours?"

On queue Torres went to the screen and called up the starmap they had drawn up earlier. On it the ships' path was superimposed upon a view of the stars. At one end the path simply disappeared for a while.

"As you can see," B'Elanna explained, "we have no information about our path for nearly two parsecs." She pointed at the screen. "In the area there is only one M-class planet. Our guess is that we lost the men on that planet."

"So?" Admiral Crewaw wanted to know. "Do you suggest we go back there for a crew we can't even remember?" The Doctor sighed. This anger really clouded their vision while it lasted.

"Admiral," Janeway said as she leaned forward, "we never leave a man behind. So yes, strap yourself in for the ride."

Ellrose nodded. The Doctor was glad to see the Captain agree with Janeway without further argument.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Of all the humanoids (and some beings who were not exactly bipedal or recognizable as sentient) in the entire galaxy, Harry was sure he could not have been assigned a worse cell-mate than Vorik.

Okay, so firstly it wasn't exactly a cell, but a very fancy room. Secondly Harry had to admit he did not know all the aliens in the galaxy. And thirdly, at least Vorik didn't smell, tried to steal his food or hit him on the head with something. But all things being equal, Harry might still have preferred a number of beings above Vorik to be locked up with.

Perhaps the worst part was that up to now Harry Kim had been sure he was an easy-going, mild mannered human who had no trouble relating to Vulcans. In fact, Harry _liked_ Tuvok and considered him a friend – kind of.

A few weeks locked up with Vorik had changed all of that. Harry lay back on the too-soft bed and considered the situation.

No, Vorik wasn't smelly or untidy. The problem was that he was _too_ perfect: the Vulcan never perspired from the heat, therefore he usually smelled better than Harry, who found the room just the tiniest bit too warm. Of course Vorik would never _tell_ Harry that he smelled. Instead he would offer nice little titbits about how Harry might be able to improve his morning routine to prevent perspiration throughout the day. And while Harry was as a rule a tidy man, it frustrated him that whenever he turned his back for just a moment, Vorik would quietly swoop in and put away anything not in its place. The Vulcan also insisted on dusting the room every morning. _Every morning!_

Also, when they had first been chucked in here, Harry had been extremely relieved to find their prison would be a nice room with clean bathroom facilities and two separate beds. Not Vorik. From the start Vorik had been critical of a society who wasted resources on such elaborate holding cells.

A third thing was the food: Vulcans were vegetarians. All of them. But these women insisted on feeding them meat as often as they could. The first time this had happened, Vorik had asked the female who brought the food if she would bring him vegetables instead. The woman had obviously misunderstood. So now all they ever got to eat was vegetables – both of them. _Every day_. By now Harry _craved_ meat. Any meat. He was not sure he could stand another of those little Brussels-sprout look-and-taste-alike things much longer. And just like any other sprout, there was no way the things could be prepared that made them even remotely edible.

Perhaps the whole situation would have been tolerable if Vorik were able to show any emotion at all. If only Vorik would laugh at him, yell at him or even do just one petty thing, it would have been easier. Then Harry would not have felt like such a primitive being in a cage with an English lord.

Or a human locked up with a Vulcan.

Frustrated with the whole situation, as well as his own thoughts, Harry picked up the vase on the small table beside his bed and flung it at the wall. The delicate crystal shattered with a satisfying violence into a million pieces. One shard flew all the way back to where Harry was now sitting and nicked his cheek.

Grinning at the display, Harry reached up to touch the stinging spot on his face. With his fingertips he felt the shard still imbedded in his flesh. Slowly he got up, went to the small mirror in the bathroom and inspected the wound. The shard had missed his eye by millimetres and he could see the small pink crystal protruding. Gently he pulled it out, leaving a wound that – though small – bled freely.

He pressed his fingers against the nick for a minute or so. By the time he was completely bored with standing at the sink, doing even less than usual, the bleeding had stopped and Harry washed his face. As he dried off he saw the small wound was hardly visible now that it wasn't bleeding.

Finally he returned to the main room, only to find all evidence of the shattered vase had been removed.

"How did they know to come and clean up the mess?" he asked Vorik. The engineer was still sitting with his back against the wall – the wall with the elaborate but useless windows – meditating. Now the golden-skinned Vorik opened his eyes and regarded Harry with his usual calm.

"They," he said, stressing the word, "did not clean up the shards. I did." The Vulcan raised a single eyebrow. "Tell me, what purpose did breaking the vase serve?"

The Vulcan never raised his voice, never twitched an eye as he talked. But to Harry that was the final straw. Weeks of frustration boiled over and he flung himself at the serene alien.

Vorik met his assault with his usual aplomb. As Harry sank to the ground in a faint from the calmly-applied neck-pinch, he only had time for a single thought: Tom always said: never piss off a Vulcan, they don't play fair.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Eeny-meeny-miny-mo. With this little button we'll go." On 'go' Tom Paris pushed the selected button while closing one eye – just in case. Chakotay grimaced.

"This is not the way to inspire trust," he said, willing his eyes to stay open: when the pilot of the shuttle you're on closes his for 'just in case,' you want to close your eyes as well. And with good reason: the ship was so strange neither one could figure out the systems. Hence the 'eeny-meeny' way of trying to get it flying.

"Just remind me whose idea was it to steal this particular shuttle," Tom answered his captain. It has been only a few minutes since their initial escape, but already things weren't looking too good for getting off the planet.

"There were two large Yan-Tai approaching." Chakotay shrugged. "It was either this shuttle or be dragged back to that pretty room." He looked over Tom's shoulder. "Can't you hurry it up?"

"Hey," Tom said, slightly irritated, "do you want to do this?"

"If it will get us out of here any sooner," Chakotay replied, once more looking at the closed porthole behind them. It was the only thing separating them from discovery by the Yan-Tai. The plan was to take the shuttle up to the cemetery of ships in orbit and to find one that still worked. When he looked back in Tom's direction he found the younger man smiling.

"You sounded just like B'Elanna," he said, referring to his wife of just over two years.

Chakotay smiled back at him. "I have been acquainted with your wife for a long time, you know."

Tom pushed another button without success. Then he suddenly pushed back from the consol and ducked under it. From down there he continued the conversation.

"I don't deserve her, you know," he said, opening a panel and dropping it next to Chakotay's feet.

The Captain smiled, thinking of his own luck in having Kathryn as lover. "No, we never do," he replied. Before he could continue the consol suddenly sparked before blinking out. "I think you killed it," he told Tom.

"No," Tom replied, sliding out from underneath. "I just fixed it."

"The lights just went out."

"Yes," Tom said, smiling. "But..." and he pushed a button. The shuttle burped to life. "See, I fixed it."

Chakotay grinned as he slid into the co-pilot seat. "How did you know?"

Tom merely shrugged. "I, too, have been acquainted with B'Elanna for a long time." Then he fiddled with the controls and suddenly the little shuttle rose into the air. It was a very antiquated piece of equipment. The propulsion system was not unlike that used by fighter jets of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries on Earth. And within seconds it became obvious that the ship was not equipped with efficient inertial dampeners. Both men were pushed into their seats, pulling at least three or four G's. And rising. Though they were space-farers that daily travelled at speeds exponentially faster than light, they were not used to excessive inertia.

"This...is...not...pleasant," Tom managed to say as the shuttle shook and burped and made their eyes water with pressure. No, it was not pleasant, Chakotay thought.

As the shuttle was unable to make the direct vertical climb they were used to, the journey into space nearly took twenty minutes. Only when they cleared the atmosphere did the excessive shaking and rattling subside. This did not mean the ride was any pleasanter: only the _excessive_ shaking and rattling subsided. But by now they were not accelerating anymore, so the pressure had gone and they found they were once more able to talk.

"You know, I don't think this shuttle is of the same technology as the structure we were held captive in," Tom said as he steered towards the drifting mass of ships.

Chakotay thought about that for a moment. "No. But this level of technology appears to be more on the level of the Yan-Tai than the city."

Tom looked at his Captain for a moment, but the shuttle unnerved him enough to return his attention to flying almost immediately. "So if the shuttle and the Yan-Tai are of the same technology..."

"But the citadel is of another kind..."

"Then does it mean the Yan-Tai are not the original inhabitants of this planet?" Tom finished. "Wow," he added.

"Yes, wow," Chakotay said, frowning. "But where have the original inhabitants gone?"

"Perhaps they died in a war and the Yan-Tai simply took over this planet?" Tom wondered. The great amount of dead ships orbiting the planet might imply an interplanetary war. But Chakotay suspected the truth was far different. He had a hunch they would not find any traces of battle on the ships, but rather abandoned and drifting vessels fit to fly. All the men had been abducted by a primitive transporter from _Voyager_ weeks ago. He suspected the dead ships were ships that have suffered the same fate, only without having had a female crew left that could continue the journey.

He shared that thought with Tom as they neared the graveyard. Tom's eyes widened. "There are thousands of ships here," he said. "If these are only the ships that have been all-male, how many had gotten away with the women on board? How many men have they abducted?"

"I suspect a great many." The two men fell silent as they made the final approach towards a nearby ship. Tom smoothly – as smoothly as the shuttle allowed – guided the vessel down the corridor leading towards what they assumed to be the docking-bay. As they passed certain points in the corridor, soft pink light flickered on.

They finally reached the docking-bay and landed the little ship with a bump. Tom winced, but Chakotay manfully held his pose. That was one trip he hoped never to repeat.

The air inside the bay was breathable, meaning they would not need any equipment outside. Not that the shuttle had any.

As they stepped into the bay, it became obvious that this ship was of the same technology as the citadel. On the wall was an immense tree much like the one that had been the window in their room. This one sparkled in the light.

"Are those jewels?" Tom asked in awe. Chakotay had to agree: even in this huge galaxy they had seldom come across such a display of wealth. Ten minutes later their awe had only increased as they had passed through the sip to the bridge: passing through one cabin more wondrous than the one before.

"I don't care what you say, this ship was not built by the Yan-Tai," Tom said. Chakotay didn't say anything, but he suspected Tom was correct. The citadel and this ship belonged together, but not with the Yan-Tai.

As Tom had approached the con it, too, had blinked to life. He sat down in the soft seat provided and ran his fingers over the controls. "This is more like it," he sighed.

Yet he never even had time to engage the engines. Just as escape seemed possible, that same, searing pain ran down Chakotay's back. Though it did not kill, the Yan-Tai transporter system was _very_ primitive. Then the ship faded and he knew they would wake back on the surface of the planet. Their escape had failed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"You are talking about the mind leeches," the grey-skinned alien told them. Kathryn Janeway, Emily Ellrose, B'Elanna Torres and Libby Kim had arrived at the last planet they had been on according their logs. They had been cordially greeted by the Prime Ahge of the planet. When they had presented their problem to it (the spesies was gender-less), they had been assured their problem was not their doing, nor was their case unique.

The Prime Ahge remembered _Voyager_ and the _Deadalus_ from a month ago. According to it they had traded and the two crews had spent about a week on shore leave here. The whole crew, men and women. This concurred with the logs as well as their memories: memories that were becoming clearer every day.

"Mind leaches?" Janeway asked.

"Yes," the alien replied. "We have heard many tales of ships abandoned or ships stripped of one half of the spesies."

"The male half?" Janeway prompted.

The alien shrugged. "We are not..." and he spread his hands in the sign of universal denial of knowledge. Janeway supposed they were the one spesies who could not be asked to know the difference. She wondered how they procreated. Probably some way she did not want to know about.

"So where do we find these mind leeches?" B'Elanna asked; violence in her voice. Janeway had noticed this new aggression the moment the younger woman had started to remember her lost husband. She would probably do these leeches serious harm if Janeway wasn't to keep a close watch on her.

"We are not sure," the Ahge replied. It frowned, but Janeway had early on noticed that their facial expressions were not the same as the visitors', and they were not consistent from one moment to the next.

"Could you at least point us in the right direction?" Ellrose asked. The Ahge smiled and Janeway wondered how Ellrose's question had translated into their language. The alien clasped its hands behind his back. "Up," it said, looking at the sky. It definitely had not understood the question the way it had been intended.

"Do you have charts we could look at? Charts of the region?" Libby asked. She was turning out to be great at diplomacy. "Perhaps there is a way we could determine the planet these Leeches live on."

The Ahge seemed to think about that for a moment, and then it clasped its hands together. "Yes, we might. Come, this way."

The four visitors, the Prime Ahge and two Lesser Ahge (Ahges? Ahgai?) slowly made their way into another room – one even more lavishly appointed than the one they had been greeted in. The central theme here, as elsewhere, seemed to be a tree that resembled a weeping willow. The windows were shaped in it and everywhere statuettes and art representing the same motif adorned the rooms and corridors. Even the curtains and carpets were leafy and delicate.

"These trees are beautiful," Libby said, admiring a delicate jewel cut into a tree. The Ahge clasped it hands once more.

"It is the tree of our birth," it replied.

"Birth? I'm sorry, I am not sure I understand?" Janeway remarked. The statement could have a religious meaning, or it could mean something else entirely. Especially in the Delta quadrant one could never tell at first glance.

The Ahge spread its hands. "We are birthed by it. How else would one procreate?" Janeway heard B'Elanna cough behind her – probably trying to hide her shock.

"Like fruit?" the half-Klingon managed at last. Not very subtle, Janeway thought, but sometimes her straightforwardness cut through a lot of diplomatic runaround.

"You find that peculiar?" the Ahge asked. "Yes, we have seen peoples surprised by this. How else would one procreate?" it repeated.

"Well, we do it a little differently," B'Elanna said. She seemed embarrassed. Janeway couldn't resist the urge to have a little fun with the younger woman.

"Yes, do tell us how else one would procreate?" she asked, crossing her arms. The engineer scowled at her. Fortunately this line of conversation was ended when Libby suddenly pointed at a dot on the tree-dimensional projection of space that hovered at one end of the room. One of the lesser Ahge had activated the map when they had entered a few minutes ago. But the conversation with the trees had sidetracked them.

The dot Libby was pointing at was inside a brilliantly coloured nebula. This, however, was not what had drawn her attention. All the planets under the control of the Ahge was coloured in blue. All other planets were coloured according to the nation it represented. Only this one planet was a plain white dot.

The Ahge looked at it. "That is a planet that used to be part of our civilisation. But now it is not."

"Why not?" Libby asked. The Ahge looked up at the ceiling, then back at them. Janeway really wished she could figure out their body-language.

"The people of another system killed all trees on the planet. Now we cannot return." The Ahge looked at the star. "The last time you were here you asked the same question."

"About the star?" Janeway asked. This seemed important.

"Yes. You asked why the other people would do that."

"And what did you answer?" The Ahge might be willing to cooperate, but she had to drag every drop of information out of it: it did not really volunteer anything.

"There are large deposits of trilithium – a source of energy that fuelled their ships – on the planet." The Ahge looked at her, its head thrown back slightly and thus squinting in her direction. She smiled at it. Then she looked at those who had come with her.

"I think that might just be the planet we're looking for," she told them. She could see they had come to the same conclusion. Once more their lives – along with that of Ellrose – consisted out of constant worry and scampering to find the necessary provisions to stay alive. And though Starfleet engines used dilithium, trilithium could easily be converted into the former – a good reason they might have gone to the white-dot planet.

"It is uninhabited," one of the lesser Ahge told them. It, too, was squinting at them.

"Perhaps," Janeway said thoughtfully. "But somehow I think the answer to what happened to our crews is on that planet."

The Prime Ahge crossed his arms on its chest, hugging itself. "As you think best," it said.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Tom could not believe his luck – or lack thereof. Once he had considered himself a ladies-man, but then he had met B'Elanna and slowly things had changed. Though the two of them had never really gotten along, B'Elanna had always somehow ended up confiding in him. The first of these he could recall was that time the Vidiians had split B'Elanna into a human B'Elanna and a Klingon B'Elanna. Human B'Elanna had thought she was going to die and she had confided in him – _him _, the guy she thought beneath contempt – about her childhood and her constant battle with her Klingon heritage.

Back then Tom had thought he had never seen a woman as lovely as the human B'Elanna. But he had to admit, even that day he had known that though she was beautiful as a human, she was even lovelier as a half-Klingon.

And then, somehow, they had ended up being in a relationship. Well, actually it had started as she wanting to have sex with him to stop her Vulcan (yip, Vulcan) _pon-far_ symptoms. Fortunately she had ended that problem by beating the hell out of Vorik. Yet something had awakened in them that day and they had finally ended up being married. Soon after Mirel had been born and Tom had thought himself the luckiest man in the world.

Now it seems all of that luck had run out. After their attempted escape, the Yan-Tai had been treating them rough enough that both he and Chakotay were in poor shape. To top it all off, the two men were now being dragged to what the big woman had called a 'justice-gathering.' Somehow he doubted if this was going to end well.

Minutes later the big Amazons shoved Tom and Chakotay through a door and into a small room. As Tom looked around – after getting up from the ground – it turned out that they were in a small cell with energy-barriers forming three of the four walls. Gathered around the cell were at least thirty Yan-Tai. Some of them growled at the two men and suddenly Tom was reminded that the Klingons were not the toughest race out there. Out here, he amended.

Finally a huge woman, dressed in full length robes that reminded Tom of a circus tent he had once seen, made her ponderous way through the crowd towards the two men.

"Guest Tom and Guest Chakotay," she began in a voice that matched her girth, "you are hereby on trial for the abuse of our hospitality."

Tom's jaw nearly dropped. "You're kidding, right?" he asked. But the woman did not smile and neither did Chakotay when he glanced at his captain. Chakotay looked worse than he did, Tom momentarily reflected.

The big woman continued as if the interruption had never happened. "You have been given the best chambers and the best of our hospitality. Yet you would attack one of our own, steal a shuttle and attempt the theft of a ship in an attempt at leaving our glorious city." She looked at them and Tom suddenly knew this was not going to end well for the two humans. "How do they plead?" she boomed.

"Guilty!" the gathered Yan-Tai roared. Oh, that was new, Tom thought. Usually the prisoners had a little say in what was happening around them.

"You call us your guests," Chakotay suddenly spoke in his most calm and reasonable voice. "Are guests not allowed to leave whenever they have outworn their stay?"

The assembled women stared at Chakotay as he spoke, but in the end they simply ignored him. Tom wondered if they could actually hear them: perhaps the force-fields allowed sound to enter, but not to leave.

"You have betrayed our trust without ever repaying our kindness to you." By now the whole crowd was in frenzy and the big woman had to pitch her voice over the noise. Tom wanted to clasp his hands over his ears, but that would only drown out the sound, not the sentence he knew was coming. "As such, you will be given one day in which to submit to our requests or you will be killed."

The crowd roared and stamped their feet on the ground. Tom wondered if these people were without men because the poor males had run away. He looked closer at the huge woman for a moment and then decided this could not be true. He would rather believe that the women had eaten all of their men and that was why they were male-less.

Moments later the two men were pulled from the cell and dragged away to their room. One of the women dragging them was the big one that had been their guard these past weeks. She smiled evilly at them, and, indeed, when they were pushed into their room, she shoved Tom hard enough so he landed across the room; crumpled against the wall.

"You know, I don't think she likes me," he quipped. Chakotay strolled over and helped his friend up.

"No, I don't think she does," he grinned wryly. Together the two of them sat down on the bench where they had spent so much time already.

"You know, I think I would rather die that have intercourse with these Amazons," Tom mused.

"Fortunately it seems they are not able to take what they want without our willingness," Chakotay agreed.

Tom closed his eyes for a moment and leaned back; taking stock of his newest bruises. "Harry had it easy," he told his captain and friend.

Chakotay looked at him. "I don't understand," the older man remarked.

"You know," Tom said as he opened his eyes. "That time he changed into that alien and the women wanted to kill him in the process of making babies?" he explained. "At least those women had been extremely pretty."

"True." Chakotay seemed deep in thought and Tom was for now willing to leave him be. He wished he knew how the women – how B'Elanna – was getting on. Wil they ever remember them? Will his wife look at their daughter and wonder where she came from? Or will they live out their lives in ignorance of all the men that had been abducted from the ship?

He had been honest when he had said he would rather die than mate with these women. But would it not be better to submit and live so he could attempt escape again later? Yet how would he ever find _Voyager_ in the vastness of space, should they escape?

And what exactly did a sharing of body and spirit imply? Why weren't there any men on this planet? Was it genetic, or did they really somehow consume or kill their men and male offspring? And where were all the other males it seemed these women had abducted over the years?


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Sunlight barely brightened the mosaic-window when the Yan-Tai stormed into the room. Without any ceremony the Amazonian women dragged the two Starfleet officers from their beds and down the corridor to the immense central hall. This was the room where the Starfleet officers had been beamed into that first day – it would seem the Yan-Tai liked herding their flock together every once in a while.

As Chakotay and Tom were shoved into the room, Chakotay quickly took inventory of the personnel assembled in the room. On _Voyager_ the situation was such that he knew every crewmember. Even on the new mission he had taken the time to get to know every new member personally. He knew as captain this was no longer required of him, but he had been with the Maquis long enough and on board _Voyager_ long enough as First officer that he knew the value of knowing your crew. It was not just a matter of knowing where everyone could be assigned efficiently (that sounded very Tuvok even to him), but also a matter of building trust. When _Voyager_ had fist set out ten years ago, Janeway had been hesitant at first in opening herself that way. But after they had been stranded she had made the effort to get to know everyone and it had been worth it.

Now, with a mental list of everyone that would have beamed down and he had seen that first day when they had been gathered, he quickly scanned the group. Of the male _Voyager_ crew only Reg Barclay was absent, but that was as he remembered from before. Obviously the women had little time for a sick man. Unfortunately the _Daedalus_ crew had not mixed greatly with the _Voyager_ crew tese past few months, and he was unsure if that crew was complete. He hoped they were.

The Starfleet personnel were all assembled in a large double ring. Inside the ring stood eight armed Yan-Tai and of course the perimeter were guarded by more females. Chakotay and Tome were dragged to stand with these women. There was no escape.

One of the inner-circle Yan-Tai spoke: "We have greeted you with open arms and all due hospitality," the Amazonian woman began. "Yet all of you had denied us the one thing we had asked of you," she continued in her big voice, and Chakotay could see the same pride coursing through him ripple through the men. They might have been captured and their future might be uncertain, but they had stood firm against their captors. Perhaps it is a good thing Reg wasn't here: he wasn't so sure how long Reg would have stood up to the Yan-Tai. "And now," the woman interrupted his train of thought; "two of your number had had the audacity to try and escape!"

At 'escape' the women in the room jeered at the Starfleet men. One overcome woman actually struck out and hit the nearest man with a meaty fist. Fortunately the poor man struck was Vorik and he was composed and strong enough to merely shrug the blow off. What did surprise Chakotay was the quick flash of a smile he glimpsed on Harry's face. He had thought the two men got along fine.

"No, sister!" the big woman next to Chakotay spoke to the one that had hit Vorik. "We must not blame these ignorant, puny little beings! They merely took their cue from their leader, this Chakotay and his friend," she said while shoved Chakotay. It felt like his arm would come off she was that strong. "I propose they be given the most severe penalty we of the Yan-Tai can bestow upon a visitor! What say you?" she thundered.

"Yes!" the women cried in unison, and somehow Chakotay knew this was not going to end well for the two of them. These women would have made Kahless look like a female Ferengi.

"Um, what exactly do you mean by 'penalty?'" Tom asked the woman. She slapped him.

"Do not speak!" she thundered. "You have no more worth and no more right to our hospitality!"

Tom picked himself up from the ground and Chakotay could see the belligerence radiating off the younger man and just _knew_ Tom was about to say something he and Chakotay were going to regret later on – if there was a later. In an attempt to stop Tom from signing their death warrants, Chakotay stepped forward between the Lieutenant and the Yan-Tai woman. But looking at her brutal face Chakotay suddenly remembered what it was like to stand against the Cardassians and the same streak of devil-may-care that made Tom so unpredictable at times swam to the surface in the Captain.

"Hospitality hardly matters when the guests are prisoners. Do with us what you will, but we will never submit to your request." He calmly but forcefully told the woman. With a shriek of rage she backhanded Chakotay across the face and the force of the blow sent him skidding across the floor. As he lay on the ground, struggling to remain conscious, he thought he saw the cool blue shimmer of a Federation transporter beam. He closed his eyes in a moment to collect himself, and in that moment he heard a familiar tart voice:

"I would not hit the Captain of my ship again if I were you. We are armed, after all, and our weapons are far superior to yours," Kathryn told the Yan-Tai. Chakotay opened his eyes to find her holding a phaser rifle aimed at the big woman that had hit him. Gathered around her – armed to the teeth as well – were B'Elanna, Seven, Libby, Ellrose and several other women from both _Voyager_ and the _Daedalus_. Fierce pride surged through him at the sight of their women. They were half as big as the Yan-Tai and delicate, yet he would put his money on them every time.

While the Yan-Tai were still trying to decide what to do, Tuvok stepped forward and neck-pinched the big woman that seemed to be in command. For a moment Chakotay thought it hilarious to see Tuvok was not wearing any shoes. As they had all been dragged out of bed, all of the men were in various states of undress, even the Vulcan Commander.

As the big woman fell to the floor, Tuvok held out his hand and lifted the blade she had been carrying from her in mid-fall. By the time the woman hit the floor Tuvok was armed.

Then all hell broke loose. The Yan-Tai obviously disliked people ruining their plans and attacking their leader. So they attacked.

The moment the big Amazons had charged half of them were already flattened by well-placed Federation phaser blasts. The Starfleet women calmly fired at the charging aliens and every shot flattened at least one Yan-Tai. The men, of course, did not wait to be invited and with Tuvok in the lead did their share to spread destruction among the Yan-Tai. The battle might have been fierce, but it lasted less than a minute. Even Chakotay had been able to join in the fight after Tuvok had calmly strolled by, pulled him to his feet and continued to flatten a Yan-Tai. Even when other Yan-Tai stormed into the room to support their fallen friends, they had no chance. By the looks of it Kathryn and, especially, B'Elanna were angry. When those two women are riled they riled everyone with them and then there was going to be hell paid by those who had caused them to be angry in the first place. As the Yan-Tai soon learned it was easier to fight a Tar'g.

The dust of the battle finally settled. Looking around Chakotay saw a floor littered by Yan-Tai, but no Starfleet personnel. Turning around he saw Kathryn behind him, still frowning. He walked over to her and smiled.

"You came," he told her.

She smiled back, her weapon still at the ready. "It took some persuasion," she told him. "But in the end you have just left too much of an impact on our lives for us to leave you behind."

He looked around at the remains of the short fight.

"Just do me one favour," he said as she aimed her rifle at a moving Yan-Tai.

"And what would that be?"

He ducked his head slightly as he teased her. "Remind me never to pick a fight with you women in the future."

She laughed out loud and tapped her com-badge. "Ensign, beam us up," she told whoever was on duty in the transporter room. Again she looked over at him and he grinned at her. The cool blue of the Federation transporter beam started the disassembly of their molecules as her laughter rang out through the huge hall.

**The End.**


	13. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Kathryn sat curled in the soft seat; scrolling through the notes on the Yan-Tai and drinking a last cup of coffee for the night. She was already in her pajamas and she really had promised herself it will be the last cup before going to bed.

"Listen to this," she called to Chakotay; who was still busy in the bathroom. "According to the Doctor it seemed the Yan-Tai are not a single species. Their DNA shows signs of inter-species breeding over a long period."

Chakotay's voice drifted from the bathroom: "But we know that already. They have no males of their own."

She took a sip and nodded, even though he could not see. "Yes, but the Doctor suspects it is more than that. Even with the breeding they have, he should have been able to find a common ancestry. But he thinks they were rather a mixed group of people that had somehow become unable to bear male children."

She took another sip and waited for his reply. The Doctor had also noted that their DNA showed signs of tampering and she suspected someone had experimented on their ancestors and had somehow caused these women to reject the chromosome that produced male children. Unfortunately she never got to discuss it further, as an unexpected – and rather unwanted – guest made his ever-inappropriate appearances.

"Kathy, Kathy, Kathy, whatever are you doing back in the Delta Quadrant?" the amused voice enquired. Kathryn neatly covered her initial shock by taking a long swallow of coffee and laying her PADD down on her lap. She glared at Q over the rim of her mug. "I thought we had moved on from this chapter in your life." Q uncrossed his legs in that over-dramatic way of his. "Or am I giving away some secrets and I had somehow ended up in your past?"

She lowered her mug. "No, we have passed this way before," she replied. "We have been back in Federation space for nearly two years before the female Caretaker brought us back to the Delta quadrant."

Q frowned. "Well, that's not right. According to the timeline you shouldn't be here!"

She took another sip and smiled at him – but she was not really amused at all. She was tired and just wanted to curl up next to Chakotay and go to sleep. Q was being bothersome. "Well," she told him. "The twenty-ninth century Federation hasn't interfered yet."

"Pah!" he laughed. "Mere humans! What do you know?"

Just then Chakotay entered from the bathroom; still slightly damp and dresses only in his pajama bottoms. He must have heard the entire conversation. "We 'mere humans' do know you are disturbing us."

Kathryn had to smile at the look on Q's face as he saw the Captain walk in. He actually dropped his lower jaw. Then he glared at her.

"Him?" he almost-disgustedly asked. Then he seemed to pull himself together. "It's the tattoo, right?"

Kathryn has had enough. "Yes," she ironically replied. "It was absolutely the tattoo." She glared at their guest. "Now, either say whatever it is you think we need to hear or leave."

"Kathy, I'm hurt!" Q joked. But then he actually looked serious. "You really shouldn't be here, you know. I will have to go talk to that female Caretaker of yours." And with the snap of his fingers he disappeared.

"You know," Chakotay said as he crossed the remaining space between the bathroom and the seat. She held out her arms and he picked her up in one smooth motion. "I really wish Q would give us some advanced warning of his arrivals."

She shrugged as he laid her on the bed. "Somehow that just won't be Q." She replied.

He crawled in next to her and pulled her into his arms next to his body. "You're probably right."

She smiled into the night. "I always am," she told him.

_Author's note: sorry it took so long: I lost my notes on the story when we moved and only recently found it at the bottom of a box. But thanks for everyone who was willing to bear with me and for everyone who Reviewed. _

_Bunny love_

_DPB._


End file.
